


Head in the Gutter

by Louffox



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings, Oneshot, Tumblr Prompt, fitted sheets, just a funny little thing, minor smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:23:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louffox/pseuds/Louffox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In response to the popular post that's been going around on Tumblr, about Cas in the bunker, trying to put fitted sheets on, and Dean (next door) hearing bedsprings creaking and Cas's groans. Dean makes some false assumptions, and one thing leads to another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Head in the Gutter

**Author's Note:**

> I believe the original Tumblr prompt is here: http://autumnackles.tumblr.com/post/61470201661/okay-so-in-the-bunker-castiel-is-trying-to-put-on  
> Check me out on Tumblr to give me more prompts and to see my other fics! Find me at http://fauxfoxfanatics.tumblr.com/

            Cas pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, sighing loudly. It was impossible. He was destined to fail from the start, because obviously, one could never win.

            Blasted sheets.

            Sam had showed him how to do laundry, how to sort things, how to add the proper detergents and disinfectants to the machine and how to make it go. He’d showed him how to wash linens, and how to operate the dryer, and to add one of the waxy sweet-smelling sheets to make thing soft and pleasantly scented. He’d happily showed him how to launder his sheets that afternoon.

            But now he was trying to put the things back on the bed and he was completely and utterly defeated.

            It was that stubborn fitted sheet, the one with the elastic around it. He understood how it was supposed to go. But every time he thought he’d gotten it, he would sit on it gingerly and one or more of the corners would pop up.

            He thought by now that he had it oriented correctly, but he wasn’t certain. He’d crawled from corner to corner, fixing, and every time he had it, another would come undone. He flopped back on the bed with a groan, feeling overwrought with humanity. He was an eon-old celestial being (or had been) and he was trumped by a stretch of cloth with an elastic.

            As if to add insult, a second corner popped up.

            He tried one more time. “Please,” he growled at it, suddenly understanding Dean and Sam’s habit of speaking to inanimate objects. He pulled it down around the edge of the mattress-

            The opposite one came undone. He groaned again and kicked the bed a few times for good measure. It creaked obscenely back at him.

            Time to requisition some much needed aid.

            Dean’s bedroom was next door to his, and Sam’s was on Dean’s other side. Dean was more likely to be up late, and Sam was still often tired from the lingering effects of the trials. And, though Sam was more patient, if Castiel asked himself, he liked Dean more. Dean was… stable. Mostly. He was a ying to Castiel’s yang, a bridge to humanity that Castiel clung to.

            And, to be honest with himself, Castiel had discovered that his eyes liked to gravitate toward Dean’s derrière when he leaned over to do things, such as fix a fitted sheet on a bed.

            He knocked thrice lightly, hoping he was awake. There was a faint thump from inside, the sound of muffled cursing, and a few moments later, the door opened.

            “What?” Dean said gruffly, looking oddly perturbed. Cas thought his shirt might be inside-out, but he’d been repeatedly informed that he lacked knowledge in the fashion and clothes aspect of humanity.

            “Am I interrupting something?” Castiel asked politely.

            “What? No, why?”

            “You seem flustered,” he observed.

            “Well, so do you.” Classic Dean, defensive as ever. Cas brushed it off, as he’d gotten accustomed to.

            “Yes, that’s why I’m here. I need your help with something. I… I thought I could do it by myself, but I believe it would go much faster and more successfully with a partner,” he said, fidgeting and glancing at the floor. He so hated asking for help, especially since he’d finally been doing a halfway decent job of being human and the other hunters had started to cease their teasing and berating.

            He looked up at Dean. The hunter had flushed a bright red and had tucked his chin slightly, a gesture Cas had grown to understand as surprised, confused, and slightly uncomfortable.

            “I… I, uh… you really want… a partner?” he stammered, going to lean against the doorjamb, missing and almost falling, then regaining his balance and leaning against it properly.

            “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I was going to ask Sam, but he’s asleep.”

            His chin jerked up and eyes flashed- that was undeniable anger and… hurt? Cas was having a hard time following the emotional undertones of their conversation.

            “Oh, you were gonna ask Sam, but he can’t come, so you come to me as- what, a back-up plan? One Winchester can totally be substituted for the other, right? I’m just a fill in?” Dean snapped. “Cas, I knew you struggled with emotions, but I had no idea you were so goddamn shallow. And what makes you think I’d want in, anyways?”

            “You- what? I just… I just couldn’t get the corners to stay down, I didn’t realize there was an emotional commitment or bonding over such a-,”

            “Wait, corners? What are you talking about?” Dean interrupted, looking positively lost, throwing his hands up.

            “Making my bed. I laundered my sheets and I can’t get the fitted sheet to stay on properly. Why, what were you talking about?” Cas replied, bemused.

            Dean regarded him silently for a moment, mouth slightly open, then let out a surprised and embarrassed laugh and clapped his hand over his mouth.

            “I- uh. Nothin’,” he said unconvincingly, rubbing his eyes. “C’mon, let’s go see what we can do about that bed.”

            “Dean, I want to know why you were becoming upset. What did you think I was talking about?” Cas pressed, catching up to Dean’s long strides as they went to his room.

            “Don’t worry about it, Cas. I was just… it was a head-in-the-gutter thing. Making stupid assumptions,” Dean dismissed. “You take that side, we’ll do opposite corners first.”

            “I don’t understand that phrase, I don’t believe I’ve heard it before. ‘Head-in-the-gutter’. Is this a bowling reference?” Cas asked. He was completely turned all around with this conversation and was determined to catch up. How was he to get better at interaction if he didn’t understand his mistakes, and therefore could correct them?

            “Just leave it. Really.”

Cas’s corner popped up again and he groaned, putting a hand on his face in a stressed gesture.

“Here, what are you doing? Show me,” Dean said, going around the bed to stand behind him.

“I’m pulling it over the edge, like this.”

“No, you’ve got to pull it all the way under and tuck it in like that- no, not- here, let me,” Dean said, stepping up behind Cas and reaching around him to show him how, his front pressed against Cas’s back. “Like that.”

The contact made Cas shiver in a peculiar way, and suddenly something clicked. Dean went around to do the other corner, but Cas caught his wrist, and he turned back, puzzled.

“You made an assumption from what you could observe. What you could observe was creaking bedsprings and my frustrated sounds. Then you observed me at your door, perspiring slightly and looking untidily put-together,” Cas stated. “And then- then I said ‘partner’, which, as I understand, is the term for a second person in interc-,”

“Alright, alright! Just… don’t say the word ‘intercourse’, sheesh,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I thought you were having some ‘private time’.”

“’Private time’?” Cas repeated curiously.

“Rubbing one out.”

“I don’t-,”

“Jacking off! Masturbating!” Dean cried, exasperated. Blood was rushing under his cheeks, creating a deep blush.

“And you thought I was asking you to join me. In lieu of Sam, that’s why you were upset. You thought I was ‘whoring around’.”

“I- yeah, I guess.”

“Dean, I don’t believe a virgin can be a whore. And,” he said, one side of his mouth curling up slightly, “I wouldn’t go to Sam, I would go right to you.”

“Cas-,” Dean started, but the ex-angel was suddenly in his personal space, still holding his wrist, looking hard at his eyes.

“Not only are you the more experienced one with intimate pleasure, but I feel something _peculiar_ between us. Once, it was a sort of spiritual bond, forged from resurrecting and reconstructing you from hell with heavenly power. Now, it’s still a _profound bond_ , but it’s taken a rather… different profoundness,” he said. He licked his lips and watched Dean’s eyes flick down to his mouth at the motion. “Do you understand what I mean?”

“I- uh,” Dean said, eyes seemingly stuck on his mouth, and Cas sighed. His hunter never was a man of words, but of action. So perhaps that would be the best way to get the meaning across to him.

He grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his mouth down to meet his.

Yes, Dean certainly understood now, his actions spoke clearly for the words he was unable to emit. His mouth moved hard against Cas’s, his own hands coming up, one to knot in Cas’s hair and the other to rest on his hip, the weight and warmth of it welcoming and comfortable, feeling completely natural.

Dean was exerting more pressure, forcing Cas to walk backwards until his knees hit the bed, then Dean continued to push until Cas had to sit down. Dean pulled away from the kiss, and watched his hand card through the ex-angels’ hair.

“I’ve wanted to do this. For so long. I don’t even know how long,” Dean said haltingly, leaning down and burying his nose in Cas’s hair. He straightened up again and marched over to the door, shutting it smartly, then climbing back on the bed, pushing Cas down into a supine position.

“What took you so long to, then?” Cas murmured as the hunter put is mouth to work on his neck. It was a strangely erogenous area- why would the neck have anything to do with the mating process? Anatomically speaking, it was insignificant to any kind of-

“You’re thinking. I can practically hear it. Stop,” Dean commanded, nipping at his neck.

“I was merely- mmph,” he was cut off as Dean’s lips returned to his and he put his tongue in his mouth, an effective and agreeable gag.

Forget the bed. He had more important things to do. Like Dean, for example.


End file.
